


Yesterday

by Mthaelly



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mthaelly/pseuds/Mthaelly
Summary: " I am what you want me to be."What is that then, Thor wonders. He is weary, he is tired. He is sleepless.Loki smiles in the night, hands cradling the shivering figure of him, all heaved sobs and cries." Everything."Basically, Thor has insomia after the everything.





	Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> I made Thor listen to Beatles. Lol

  
  


The world is silent and stagnant in the aftermath.  
Steve opts for them to stay in Wakanda, to retreat and find a solution in time, and possibly locate Tony.  
Whether if he's alive is not a thought voiced by any, none could. None would.

The world is quiet now, the wind ruffling swaying trees. The gentle whistling of a stream, the tranquil roar of a thundering waterfall. Not a human sound in tune with it.

Thor thinks it almost feels gentle,like the first early birds of dawn, chirping their songs. The beginnings of a sun over the night's moonly glow. Warmth in a misty wood.

It's quiet,so so quiet. _Gentle and_  Thor feels the urge to fall into oblivion.To shut himself through the long afternoon,and deep into the night. He thinks it better this way. Himself, afloat amongst the current of a forever gentle illusion.

But a mirage does not quench thirst, and the gentle silence is something bent awry. A cruel joke.

Because he knows it is nothing gentle, nothing good about it. The absence of bustling voices, the trampling of feet; the sounds of life all around.  
It is gentle, and it is wrong.

_It is a fickle thing, this life._  
  


The wind howls and Thor faces the sky, dark and looming ahead.  
It does not rain, not for a long time.  
  


-

_It is spring when the Bifrost is rebuild._

The forests of Asgard bloom  and the fields became ripe for the picking. There was plenty to go around, festivities with tables of over piled food of a year's good harvest. The sweetest mead from golden apples and sweet smelling bread with thick, flowing honey.

It had rained aplenty that year and the fields and lands prospered from it. The rivers sparkling in sunlight with the sounds of merry nearby, the jingling of bells to a maiden's prance; the sounds of lutes and the accompanying laughs.Many in the Realm Eternal gave thanks to the plentiful rain that year for their rewards.

Though they sighed for how it continued on and on, never seeming to let up the sunlight for too long, dampening the festive moods.

Thor is sequestered in his chambers all through spring.  
   
And the rain, the people muse follows the moods of the golden prince.

_For where Loki had went, Thor wants to follow_

_But he cannot._

"I cannot."  
  


It rains for a long, long time.  
  
  


  _

There is no one on this Earth that has no grief to bear, in the universe; in whole. The whole of life is halved into half, like the precise cut of delicate skin by a surgeon's knife, wielded in the hands of a mad healer.

The Titan claims to have forestalled doom, to have saved them.

_Thor wonders if in his selfishness, in his wallowing grief, that he had traded half of the world for the death of a single man._

The thought gnaws at him, constantly.

_

" Hey uh, so still got any pan-pan,* _what_ * again?"

" Pancakes."

Rocket huffs.

" Yeah, that pirate-boy."

Thor shuffles to the empty kitchen, Rocket in tow behind. He opens the cabinets and retrieves a box of pancake mix.  
Rocket peers at the contents of the box, nose twitching annoyance.  
" I don't remember it being a lump of powder."

" You have to make the batter first." Thor says as he closes the adjacent fridge door, hands cradling a tray of eggs and milk. The raccoon groans, but grabs the sieve and starts to mix the stuff together anyway. Thor preheats the pan. Rocket hands over the batter, Thor stirring it a bit before pouring a spoonful of it on the pan, letting it spread.

They make a stack in the end, and Rocket takes more than half, pours honey and slaps slabs of butter on it to an unhealthy degree.

" You're not a bad chef pirate-boy."

Thor gives a blank smile as he picks at his share.

" I mean it, really."

" Thank you."

_

Thor listens to Earth music alot these days.

Since Wakanda has opened up its borders prior to Thanos months before, they were quick to associate with the Internet and among other things the global world had to offer.

He wanders the mostly empty labs these days, all sleek windows and sharp edges. There is no one to bother him there, no other who enters and Thor stumbles onto it one day, aimless in the lonesome night.

He fumbles with the computer and presses on the music app, unawares. He presses on a brightly coloured album, his mind and fingers itching for diversion.

He knows how to use it properly and often now, and to his liking of course.;though he apologizes inwardly for using something that belong to another without consent. So Thor goes by lists of songs day by day, listening to the words and catching on to the melodies.

Today, the weather is dry and the night silent.

Thor clicks on the 'recommended songs' column, and a gentle melody begins to play.

The nights stretch long.

Thor cannot find sleep, nor peace.  
  
  
  


_

Thor learns to do some chores during his time on Earth.

Jane and Darcy teaches him at best, showing him how to boil water and dry the clothes, or wash the plates without breaking them too often.

Thor had never done a chore in his lifetime, and his clumsiness amuses Darcy at alot of times.

"Were you like, tagged around by a line of servants of something?" Darcy asks as she helps collect the pieces of the most recent tableware he broke.

Loki had always commented on how  Thor's reckless brute strength would fail in all things except battle, and Thor thought it wouldn't matter because he had no need for any other things besides combat.

"I was a prince of Asgard, mundane chores were never once a worry that crossed my mind."  
  


" Hmph, sounds nice."  
  


" Indeed it was. My brother used to enchant the silverware to turn into frogs just so to frighten the servants."  
  


" Must be why you don't know how to wash plates. I wouldn't want a swarm of frogs leaping at me from the sink."

Thor remembers partaking in one of those particular mischiefs. Loki had turned him into a plate, and reversed it when a servant came to collect it. Thor remembers the servant's terrified scream, and the King and Queen's unamused frown.

_Loki's gleeful smile and sniggers as they stood, punished, outside in the gardens._

Thor can't help the smile that tugs at his lips when he answers with a happy must be, picking at pieces of broken tableware.  
  


-  
  
It starts, on one of those long afternoons.

The minutes bleeding into hours, the hours into days; the steady, monotone ticking of the clock on the wall. The sounds drowning in with the bleary surroundings.

Thor is tired, he cannot sleep.

The lyrics of a song playing floating in the crisp air, Thor creates a playlist. The tea he made for a reason he could remember.  
  


_Yesterday_

_All my troubles seemed so far away_

_Now it looks as though they're here to stay_

_Oh, I believe in yesterday_

The tune is the strumming of a guitar, Thor thinks, remembers. It looks like a harp, the golden, sleek harps that Loki used to play. Or it is? A flute- like instrument? 

The sound of the man singing lulls him deeper into thought, groping for something, _anything_  to hold.  
  


"Oh, yesterday came suddenly."

Thor abruptly knocks over his tea.

_

" Two cups?"

" Yes."  
   
Rocket looks at him quizzically, nose twitching in curious disbelief. Thor handles the cups steadily in his hands, heading for the room. The doors slides close.

" Ok big guy."

Rocket thinks about knocking the doors and barge in anyway, but he decides against it when music starts to leak through the enclosed doors. The raccoon slides his paws over his face.

" Ok."

_

" When one of us dies first, we can yet still see each other."

" Really? How so brother?"

" Valhalla. Either one of us will look across the  
heavens, and see each other again."

" But how will either of us know?"

" We'll know."  
  
  


_

_Are you watching me now?_

_

The figure encased in streams of moonlight glows pale, his fingers peeling across the table.  
He looks achingly familiar, with all the bittersweetness of home, of _belonging_.

Thor is tempted to believe it's realism.

" Are you a mirage?"

The figure, _Loki, brother, enemy; love_  sits on the chair, bony fingers tapping at the screen. Scrolling down leisurely, as if unaware of the latter's growing weariness.

" I like this one."

" A trick?" Thor tries again.

" You like it too, brother."

" A trap?" _A hallucination? Borne out of madness?_

_Of my guilt?_  
  


" I am what you want me to be."  
  


_What is it that I want you to be?_  
  


Loki turns to him them. His shoulder- lenght hair all loose curls, the face dirtied by blown metal dust, cheekbones sharp in the soft light of the night sky, in glow of the moon. His skin porcelain white, in life and _death_.  
  


" Everything."

 

_Everything_

_

_I wish that yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and all those wretched yesterdays never came._

_

The others notice, but stay silent, purposely oblivious.

Rocket ever the observer, notes the light in the Thor's room at night and the two cups of tea.

Always the tea. The songs.

Until Steve breaks the silence one day, when Thor had retreated to the room again near the closing of the evening. Rocket perched on the couch.

" Can gods see the dead?"

Nobody answers for a while, the air stuffy in the room.

" Dunno really."

Steve nods and the silence resumes itself, hanging like a pall with the rest of the world.  
  
  
  
  
  


" Your companions grow weary."

Thor nods but does not answer. Only fidgets in his hold of Loki's waist, holding the burn in his eyes at bay, looking at his rough hands through Loki.

" You are a spirit."

" I am what you want me to be, only that Thor."

" I want you here, I want you _alive_."

Loki strokes his over Thor's shorn hair, scratchy at the ends. Thor whimpers ever so minutely at the gesture, the ghost of Loki's hand gliding over shorn hair and skin. He holds Loki closer, begs.  
Loki continues to soothe his hair, and Thor lets out an audible sob. _That is answer enough._

" You want me true do you not? I am here and that is not a lie.'

It feels like a balm across his heart, healing and breaking it at the same time. His ribs ache, the twist in his gut an ever unrelenting thing. He does not let go of the translucent hand in his grasp for the life of him.

" You are what I want you to be." Thor whispers.

Loki smiles then, a stray strand of inky hair falling out of place and Thor's heart constricts at the sight for Loki is beautiful in his embrace.

Beautiful and loved in life, in all those begotten yesterdays, lost like flecks of dust in the starry sky. _In death, in all those yesterdays they will not have._

"All those yesterdays, all the lifetimes we had," Thor pauses. He sobs." And those we could not have."

_You._

_

It is early morning, and Natasha paces the corridors.

Most of them are up, the raccoon too, almost too noisily. Bruce notes the absence of Thor in a worried frown.

She doesn't deny her worried, hurrisome manner as she too walks to the door of Thor's room. Clearing her throat, she gently taps in the door.

" Thor?"

" Hey, you awake buddy?"

She creaks open the door, music gently playing from within.  
  
  
  


" Is he alright?" Bruce asks when she returns. The rest turns to her too as she enters, a soft, relieved smile gracing her lips.

" Yeah, he's sleeping. He will be."

  _  
  
  
  


Suddenly

I'm not half the man I used to be

There's a shadow hanging over me  
  


Why she had to go

I don't know, she wouldn't say

I said something wrong  
  
  


Now I need a place to hide away

_Oh, I believe in yesterday_  



End file.
